Conclusions
by arabellaesque
Summary: Maiyn and Imoen have reclaimed their souls, but their fateful journey is not yet over.
1. Xan

**Author's Notes**: This is the final part of Maiyn's story which I thought I'd maybe never get around to doing. I had intended to have an interlude, of sorts, a story that took place post-Reclaiming, and pre-Conclusions, but... time got in the way, and looking over it made me unhappy with how things were going. So, an extended break has been had, and I know the way I would like things to go. But, as ever, I will probably end up going in a completely different direction...

So if you're still here and still reading... thanks! I don't know how different my writing will be after all this time! Also, it has been A While since I last played the game, so forgive any minor mistakes I make, but please do point out anything that jars. I have also forgotten a lot of the lore of forgotten realms that I once knew, so I will try and keep things accurate but... a little creative direction may be needed :)

**General disclaimer**: I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.

* * *

**Xan**

* * *

When Xan was a child, he would sit in the same place each day, just underneath the wide reach of the old oak's boughs. He would wait patiently until he saw him, his father turning the corner on the path that brought him away from the Academy of Arms, and home to his family for the evening.

When Xan was a child, his father would smile when he saw him sitting there, always in the same spot, always at the same time. He'd pick Xan up and whirl him around, both of them full of glee, and Xan would beg him 'just once more' until they were both exhausted and had to help each other home.

When Xan was a child, he would help his mother in the terraced garden to the rear of their home. He would recite all the different flowers that they'd grown and cultivated, being rewarded with a sweet whenever he managed to identify them all correctly. As he grew in age, he would start to tell her of their various properties for spells and potions, and she'd smile and nod, encouraging him in his pursuit of knowledge.

When Xan was older - not yet an adult, but not quite still a child - he would prefer his own company to that of others. His friends were few, but he was oblivious to any feeling of loneliness. He would spend a great deal of time reading, and then play in the family home. To an outsider it looked as if he was playing alone, but Xan always had the monsters, heroes, wizards and kings from his imagination alongside him.

When Xan was young, he studied hard. He loved to learn, he enjoyed discovering new knowledge. But he also realised that he was different to the others. They chatted easily amongst themselves, the girls laughing lightly, the boys making bold claims about their futures. Xan was never deliberately excluded from their gatherings, but nor was he ever fully comfortable with them. His words were clumsy, his posture stiff. He watched them from afar, studying their manners, their quirks and traits.

When Xan was a young adult, he was admitted to the Academy of Magic. His mother was overjoyed, but his father... his father showed little emotion. He learned the basics quickly, his years spent helping his mother in the garden meant he was advanced for his level, more knowledgeable about reagents than his peers. Soon they were asking him questions, feeding from his knowledge. He was able to give them answers, and slowly, but surely, he felt an affinity with them. He had... friends.

While Xan was studying, his father became more and more distant. He was often away on missions, his duty as a Greycloak taking him away from home for whole seasons. While is father was absent, Xan asked his mother about the sword; the Moonblade that had been in their family for generations. She shook her head sadly, avoided answering the query he wished answered more than anything else.

Would he inherit the blade?

When Xan finished his studies, he knew the answer. He had been born an only child, the duty would fall to him on his father's passing. He had cousins who shared his blood, but the sword was strong, likely to be choosy about its next owner. It would choose him. And he was not prepared. With a sigh, he resigned himself to his duty.

When Xan was an adult, he was trained by the Academy of Arms. He was no natural swordsman, but he learned enough to be able to defend himself. He tried his hardest, but for the first time in his life he did not excel. He found this hard to take.

His father returned to Evereska, heavily wounded from battle. As he lay on the bed in their home, Xan spoke to him about his training. His father smiled, and was proud of his son. But Xan felt only a dull ache inside. When his father died that night, it took all of Xan's strength and courage to reach out and grasp the blade. To his surprise nothing happened; there was no pain, no sudden displays of magic. Just a quiet acceptance of the new wielder.

* * *

The last few minutes of his life - was it his life, though? He was, technically dead by that point, but he still possessed his senses and emotions. Well... those last few minutes, spent on a plane of existence he'd hoped never to see, had not been as bad as he'd feared.

He knew what would happen, of course. There was only one explanation for the essence to linger. And he'd not been afraid to take it into himself, giving up his own life-force without much hesitation. He'd done it for her. After all, hadn't everything he'd done been for her in one way or another?

And then those final, few, precious moments when he held her, when she realised what he'd done. He'd told her of his feelings, but by then the magic of the essence had worked out who it belonged to, and whom - out of Maiyn and Irenicus - it had to bring back to life. He could see the panic in her eyes; frightened, full of sorrow. She was trying to speak to him, but no words came. Instead she was pulled away from his arms, and faded away from his sight. He sighed and waited.

It didn't take long. A feeling of serenity washed over him, and he even dared to allow himself to smile. Darkness closed in, but he felt no anxiety or fear.

And then... nothing.


	2. Coran

**General disclaimer**: I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.

* * *

**Coran**

* * *

When Coran was a child, he was full of mischief, joy and boundless optimism about the beauty of living and the wonder of love. These traits stayed with him for much of his growing and then adult life, and he thought he would never face the stark and dull reality that others experienced; the time of their lives when they had 'grown up'.

His sister had chided him about his lack of commitment to anything all through his formative years. He couldn't - wouldn't - dedicate himself to any single path, profession, job, or woman. He had been a loving child, devoted to his parents; but as he experienced more and more of the lands beyond their elven home, his visits became more and more infrequent.

Life was for living, after all, and living meant experiencing new things!

And then a chance meeting by the river in Cloakwood, and everything seemed to turn upside down. He felt heartsick for the first time, his thoughts and daydreams taken up by a vision of one, rather than a fantasy of many. He'd tried various medicines, thinking himself under a curse or having fallen stricken to some outlandish disease. None of them worked.

The only thing that did work was when she let him into her bed. And satisfied with the result, he expected his attentions to roam and his need for adventure to lead him off somewhere else. After all... mission accomplished.

And yet... he kept telling himself; just one more day. One more week, with them. She was in a crowd whose company he mostly enjoyed; and he had to admit to himself, continually seeing her defy the wishes of her guardians by being with him was worth a tendays entertainment, at least.

But still she managed to pull him in, an allure unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. He found himself trying to convince her that he would stay by her side, though she never seemed to truly believe him. He discovered he was a father, and still she was there, making sure he did the right thing. And then when it looked like they faced death itself, he poured his heart out to her. They would survive, he had decided, and his life - his adventure - was better being shared. The world would be open to them, and he'd take her to see things she could only ever have dreamt of before.

Except... he died. Not in the conventional sense, for Coran was anything but. He was pulled from the gates of Arvandor by the clerics of Baldur's Gate, but they could not rouse him from his sleep. And so, she left.

Maiyn; his lover, her mysterious ability to change him that he would never understand. But he'd awoken, he'd found her.

But by then... everything was complicated.

* * *

Baldur's Gate had not changed much in his absence, he decided. The buildings were much the same, the people were much the same. The hysteria following Sarevok and his death had settled, and Coran was able to ensure some anonymity for Maiyn as they returned to the city by passing through the gates at night, his elven companion drawing her hood over her face as he paid the entrance toll. The guard on duty was too tired to care much about their identity - two elves were hardly much of a threat, after all, and the he didn't even notice the lynx that crept past, its ears flat against its head in disapproval at its surroundings.

Their horses were stabled near the gates, Coran rubbing Patch's nose fondly. The roads were quiet and they arrived at their destination before long. An older woman answered their knock at the door, peering suspiciously until Coran made their introductions.

"Oh milord, forgive me - we were not expecting you so soon! Come in, come in." Coran recognised Iana, and offered her a warm smile as he crossed the threshold into Brielbara's home. Maiyn followed him, more hesitantly, and Verya stood resolutely outside.

"You can stay out if you want," Coran said to the cat, "but it will get cold, and we willbe going to bed. So..."

Verya's tail swished from side to side as she stalked in, finding her way under a nearby table, two large, green eyes shining out from the shadows underneath.

"I'll go and let Mistress Brielbara know you're here," Iana said, taking their cloaks and showing them into a cosy parlour. "She's in her study, but I'm afraid Miss Namara is already asleep for the night..."

"To be expected, at this hour," Coran said kindly. "Thank you, Iana. You are a real treasure for Briel to have."

The woman flushed at his words, and bustled off to find the lady of the house. Coran watched Maiyn perch at the edge of one of the chairs, looking decidedly uncomfortable in her surroundings. He took a seat next to her and offered her a smile.

"We should be safe here, for a while," he said, hoping to cheer her up. "You can get some rest, and then we can head back to Athkatla to see Imoen and Anomen."

She nodded. She looked pale, even paler than he remembered. _She's only had her soul back a tenday_, he reminded himself. _Give her time._

Their journey north had been peaceful on the whole. The occasional group of kobolds or bandits had been swept aside easily, and travelling on horseback had allowed them to make good time. Things had been strained in the evenings, however; conversation had initially felt forced, but with time their easy understanding of each other had returned, and both were able to enjoy a smile in the other's company. Yet some topics were avoided completely; those they'd lost, those they'd left behind. And... the child. Maiyn had been careful during their travels; careful to protect herself, and also careful not to draw any attention to her abdomen when alone with Coran. But he knew it was there; and he knew that they both needed to talk about it.

But now was not the time.

"Coran!"

Brielbara swept into the room, as beautiful as he remembered. He leapt to his feet and caught her in his arms, returning her fierce hug as she laughed with joy.

"Oh Briel, it is _good_ to see you again!" he said, meaning every word. She laughed, one finger stroking his cheek as endearment before peering around him and visibly composing herself.

"Maiyn," she said, her voice full of welcoming and warmth. "I am glad to see you again."

The elf nodded, managing a smile as she awkwardly stood up. Brielbara quickly moved to her; if she was surprised by the scars on the elven girl's face she did not show it, drawing her instead into another tight embrace. Maiyn hesitantly reciprocated, and as they drew apart the relief etched onto her face was clear.

"I... thank you for allowing me to come," she said, her voice quiet, but thick with emotion. "I know that many would not want..."

Brielbara hushed her, manoeuvring the elf back into the chair and ensuring she was comfortably settled. "I said you would _always_ be welcome here," she reminded Maiyn. "And I meant it. Now... Alice is making some hot drinks for us. Perhaps you could tell me about your past few months?"


	3. Anomen

**Author's Note:** I haven't forgotten about Minsc, though after reading over this it looks like I had!

**General disclaimer:** I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.

* * *

**Anomen**

* * *

When Anomen was a child, he'd spent his days with one of his mother's old curtains tied around his neck, pretending it was a cloak, and a wooden sword that one of the friendlier knights had given him. He'd stand on chairs, pretending they were the cliff-edges, leading down to the lair of an evil and deadly dragon. He'd leap onto his sisters bed, and jump around, pretending that it was infested with invisible kobolds. He'd wave his sword menacingly at the side of the pool, the only way to keep the sea monster living there under control.

And Moira had followed him. As soon as she learned to walk, she became his shadow. Sometimes she was the damsel he had to save, sometimes she was part of the fearsome hoarde, and a gentle poke to her belly with the tip of his sword was enough to make her fall to a sitting position, giggling at his antics.

For many years they were inseparable.

But as she grew older, she spent less time with him, and, he had to admit to himself, he was less eager to spend his time finding her. They remained close, but sought their own paths. Moira loved to garden, and would spend hours tending to the plants and flowers around the house, helping their mother to keep the home beautiful. She also loved to dance, and became friends with some of the other ladies of her age.

Meanwhile, Anomen still had the same dreams and ambitions; but now he was growing up, he was facing them in a different way. Their father, Lord Cor, was a merchant, successful and wealthy. He wanted his only son to be taught the way of business, to be prepared to inherit eveything when he came of age.

But Anomen wanted something different. He still wanted to slay dragons and rescue damsels, but with age he realised he wanted to do it properly. He wanted to be a Knight of the Order of the Radiant Heart. He wanted to protect, to serve, to _experience_. And so, with all his courage summoned, he told his father.

That was when it all changed.

His father raged for days, his temper never ending. Anomen's mother and sister both became victim to his foul moods, but Anomen remained resolute. The more stubborn he became, the angrier Lord Cor would be. In time, Anomen's mother passed away; many whispers across Athkatla's society suggested her heart had been torn apart by the crumbling of her family.

For not only was Anomen affected; Moira was also targeted by Lord Cor. As if he were afraid his other child would also try and defy him, he brought about an end to her dancing lessons, to her appearance at balls and parties. He kept her restricted to the estate, and slowly she became withdrawn and melancholy. Yet her support for Anomen and his dream never wavered.

"You will make a magnificent knight," she'd told him one day, her soft hands wiping dust off his collar as he prepared to make his way to the Temple of Helm. "I am so proud of you."

But like his mother, she'd not lived long enough to see him achieve his dream. And not much later, his father had also passed on from his life.

When Anomen had returned to Athkatla with Imoen by his side, he was not sure what to expect. He had a room at the Order, but as the last living heir to the Delryn name, he worried about the debts that would still be outstanding against the estate...

* * *

"My la—Imoen... It... It is beautiful."

Imoen shot him a sly grin before taking his hand, and dragging him along behind her. She'd been the first to suggest using some of their coin to wipe clean the debt that lingered beyond his father's death, and then suggested that he keep the estate as a base for whenever he was in Athkatla.

"But Imoen – I am a Knight of the Order. I already have a roof to sleep under within their walls."

She'd tutted at him. "That's hardly a suitable place for the children," she'd said, causing him to redden greatly. "And anyway, this was your childhood home. You can't just give it up – and we can easily afford to keep a modest amount of household help."

She had been correct, of course. While he had spent days at the Order, debriefing, listening and planning for future campaigns, Imoen had busied herself in her own way. The walls and floors of the house had been scrubbed, the place cleaned and tidied. Imoen had exercised some caution in his absence, however; nothing had been removed from its place, unless damaged beyond repair or otherwise unsalvageable. The pool had been cleaned and refilled, and pots of lavender and chrysanthemums surrounded the ornate urn that held Moira's ashes. The sight of that alone had brought a lump to Anomen's throat.

"I hope it's all okay," Imoen said, a vague hint of anxiety in her voice. "Some of your old servants have been in touch, asking about positions. I've kept their names..." She rummaged in her pocket and drew out a piece of parchment. "And... well, the bedrooms. No one has been in them, because... it didn't feel right."

"Imoen... thank you."

The girl smiled, catching his hand in hers and dragging him through to the kitchen. A fire was burning brightly in the range, the smell of cooking meat coming from one of the pots hanging above. The large beech table had been cleared of empty bottles and cleaned of old ale spillages. A simple vase of roses sat in the centre, and two candles had been placed at either end. The shelves were full of pots and pans scrubbed clean, and even the dishes and cups in the dresser looked as though they'd had attention.

"It took a while," Imoen said, grabbing a ladle as she approached the pot, "but we got there in the end. I mean, I didn't do all this _myself_. A girl called Hazel turned up and asked if she could help. She... she said she'd known your sister, and she wanted to try and make this place somewhere nice in her memory."

Anomen nodded. "I remember her. Freckles, red hair. Always giggling with Moira about... well, boys, I do believe. They had the same dance mistress, became inseparable for a time, until..."

"Hazel mentioned something about it," Imoen said. "She asked me to pass on her gentlest regards to you, and that her family are thinking of you at this difficult time."

"It is kind if them," Anomen said. "And it is kind of you, to have done all this. My lady – _Imoen_ – I am extremely grateful for all you have done. I hope you know this."

With a grin, Imoen nodded, fetching two bowls from the dresser and putting them on the table. "Oh, I know," she said. "But I wanted to do it. And now you have some free time – you _do _have some free time don't you? Good. You can go through the... other rooms, and I will help with anything you need help with. Then you can have a look through that list, and we can have a think about getting some help into this place to make it feel a bit more like home again. Agreed?"

"Agreed," the knight smiled.

"Then that's a plan!" Imoen declared happily, giving her concoction one final stir. "Now... I have to warn you. Maiyn was always the one who could cook..."


	4. Changes

**Author's Note:** This was hard to write, and I am still not happy with it. However, I decided it had to be done as there were some things in Reclaiming that happened that now, reading back over it, I might have done differently :/

**General disclaimer:** I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.

* * *

**Changes**

* * *

Brielbara was a gracious host, and her home was laid open to her visitors. Maiyn was grateful to her, but after three days spent in the house she began to feel restless. Venturing outside was dangerous, though; how many would still remember her face after the iron crisis?

She peeked out of the parlour window; it was a crisp, cool day outside. Brielbara and Coran had gone to fetch provisions earlier that morning, and Maiyn had agreed to keep an eye on Namara in their absence. The little half-elf had grown so much since last she'd seen her! She was wandering around now on her own feet, and stringing together words into basic sentences. And she _loved_ Verya. The first time she'd laid eyes on the cat she'd looked so excited, padding over and flopping down on the floor next to the feline. Verya had not been quite as keen; it had taken a bit of coaxing from Maiyn, and a lot of patience, but eventually the cat had accepted the little girl and even enjoyed sitting beside her before the open fire, receiving pets and snuggles.

Maiyn turned from the window; Namara was sitting on the rug playing with one of her dolls, half-speaking, half-babbling to her in a sincere voice. The elf smiled, a hand subconsciously lingering over her abdomen.

"I think we should go into the garden for a while," Maiyn said to the little girl. "What do you think?"

Namara squealed a happy agreement, clambering to her feet and grabbing Maiyn's hand as she dragged her towards the door. Maiyn laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Wait, wait," she said, pulling the girl's cape from the coat-hook. "Put this on – it is cold outside, and your mother and father would be displeased if we went out unprepared."

Namara stood still while Maiyn fastened the clasp, and waited patiently while the ranger collected her own cloak, pulling it securely around her. Brielbara's garden was sizeable, surrounded by a large stone wall which kept out unwanted eyes. Despite this, Maiyn pulled her cloak up and over her head. _You can never be too sure..._

They wandered outside, hand in hand, Verya darting out beside them, and disappearing into the foliage at the side of the house. _Don't leave the garden_, Maiyn warned her companion. Her cat gave no response, but she was sure she'd heard. The two girls made their way along the gravelly path which wound its way towards the far side of the garden, where two apple trees stood, bleak and naked. They'd lost their leaves for winter, their spindly branches weaving patterns together. The sky above was cloudless, a remarkable blue colour which betrayed the chill in the air. Maiyn let go of the half-elf's hand and Namara skipped ahead, singing softly to herself.

Maiyn trailed after her, enjoying the fresh air after being cooped up indoors. She stretched her arms and legs, and giggled as Namara picked up a stick and declared it to look like daddy.

The first evening had been the worst. Coran had done most of the talking, filling Brielbara in on his journey south and the adventures he'd had. Maiyn had noticed that he deliberately missed out some of the juicier details; he neglected to mention his nuptials, and thankfully, he'd made no mention of Maiyn's current state. But he'd told Brielbara enough to sate her curiosity, and Maiyn had provided a brief recollection of her own time spent in Amn. Since then talk had mostly been light-hearted; discussing Namara and milestones, talking about trade at Sorcerous Sundries, or discussing the turning weather. Occasionally Maiyn would catch Brielbara giving her a sad look, but it never lingered, and the human was always quick to make cheerful conversation.

"It going to snow?" Namara looked at Maiyn hopefully. The elf looked up to the sky and shrugged.

"It will need clouds to snow. And it will need to get colder, yet."

Namara looked disappointed.

"But... yes. I think it _will_ snow, and soon enough."

The little half-elf cheered. "You be here when it snows?"

Maiyn sighed. "I'm not sure. Maybe. It depends on how quickly the snow arrives."

"I'm gonna ask for snow tonight," Namara stated, quite seriously. "Lady Sune will give me snow."

"I'm sure she will!" Maiyn grinned. But snow... _We should be safe from snow for a while, yet._ The road south would be enough of a task, without it being complicated by the weather. "So do you talk to Lady Sune every night?"

Namara nodded eagerly, dropping the stick which apparently resembled Coran as her attention was drawn elsewhere. "Mama and me. Mama says Lady Sune gave me byootiful hair."

"Your hair is lovely, indeed, just like your mama's."

"Yours is messy." Namara swooped to the ground, and scooped something up. She proudly displayed it to Maiyn, who recoiled from the triumphant half-elf as innocently as she could.

"Yes, mine is," the ranger agreed. Her hair had been a mess for months, and she was too afraid to try and comb it or tame the braids. At some point she knew it was going to have to come down to a knife. "What a lovely... spider. Maybe you should put him down so he can scuttle home."

Namara squinted at her hands. "She's a she," she announced.

"Even more reason to put her down. She might have to go home to look after her babies."

Namara nodded seriously, and let the spider escape onto the withered grass beside the stone wall. "Do you have babies?"

Maiyn shook her head. "No."

"Just a kitty?"

"Just a kitty."

Namara looked thoughtful for a few moments. "Kitties are better, I think."

* * *

That evening, Maiyn retired to bed early, leaving Coran and Brielbara to speak about people they'd once both known. The air in her room was stuffy, so she threw open the window and looked out to the starry night. Dragging a chair closer, she sat down so she could still lean out, and closed her eyes to make her prayers to Fenmarel.

When she was done, she lingered for a while, enjoying the breeze. Then she stood and moved to light another candle beside her bed. A fierce pain drove through her, and for a second she feared an invisible assailant had made its way into her room. She stumbled against the table as another searing pain flared in her abdomen, the pain like nothing she'd felt before.

She shouted for help.

* * *

"Briel! Get a cleric – quickly! It's Maiyn..."

Coran ran back into the room, kneeling at the elf's side as she cried out in pain. He gently stroked the hair away from her face, tried to soothe her with words, but she didn't even seem to hear him. He looked on helplessly as she clutched her stomach, doubled over in pain, pushing away his attempts to make her drink a healing potion. The minutes seemed to go on forever until he heard footsteps on the stairway, and a young girl dressed in the Robes of Sune's church was gently pushing him out of the way.

"Others are coming," she said, calmly and efficiently making her way to the side of the ranger. "What is her name? What can you tell me?"

Coran pulled his hands through his hair. "Her name is Maiyn. She has been fine, she has been eating the same as the rest of us. I don't understand—"

The priestess nodded, and placed her hands gently onto the elf's torso. After a whispered prayer, she gave Coran a sharp look. "We will need my assistants. Find them!"

* * *

"With child? But... when?"

Coran sighed heavily. He had been awake all night, refusing to leave Maiyn's side as the Sunite clerics eased the ranger's pain as much as they could. Eventually the pain ceased, and Maiyn had looked at him pleadingly.

"Tell me it's all okay," she'd begged. He'd only been able to shake his head, and she'd closed her eyes and allowed the priests to help her into bed. She'd not pulled her hand away from his though, and he'd stayed there, all night while she slept, only leaving after dawn had broken to inform Brielbara of the situation.

"We were apart for some time," he said, feeling the need to justify it. "There was... another. But he died. In Suldanessellar."

Brielbara's hands went to her mouth. She watched him, a frown on her face.

"You told me things were complicated," she said, at length. "You are a master of understatement."

He shrugged tiredly. "It seemed unimportant. We had not... there had been no chance to discuss it. Properly."

"Does she understand what has happened?"

"She was asleep when I left. She hasn't said anything yet."

Brielbara nodded. "Well, if there is anything I can do..."

The elf nodded. "Thank you, Briel. I should get back to her."

"You should get some sleep," the human noted. "But I understand. I will ask Alice to bring some tea up for you both."

Coran nodded and hazily made his way back up the stairs. He knocked gently on Maiyn's door before entering, but there was no reply. He pushed it open gently; she was still in bed, but was sitting up and staring at the window.

"Do you wish company?"

She looked over to him and smiled a sad smile. "Please."

He pulled a chair closer, and sat next to her. Awkwardly he reached out for her hand, and they sat together in silence for several minutes. "I am sorry," he said softly. "I... cannot think how you must be feeling. But I am here for you."

His hand was squeezed. A gentle knock on the door signalled the arrival of their tea. Alice quietly placed the tray on the table beside the door, and offered a quick curtsey before she left.

"Do you want some?" he asked.

She shook her head. She was staring at the window again. She was pale – still ever so pale, but she didn't think she'd been crying.

"It is strange," she began, almost as if she knew what he was thinking. "I don't know how I feel. I had barely enough time to accept it had happened, and then... it's gone. And I know I should feel upset. I _do_ feel upset; I feel more sadness in my heart than I ever thought would be possible. But I also feel... relieved. Relieved that I will not be responsible for bringing a child into this world, mothered by something reviled by so many." She paused, and then looked at him sorrowfully. "Does that make me even more of a monster?"

He didn't immediately answer. "No," he said, thoughtfully.

"I only wish that Xan..." she broke off at his name, choked up in her words. She took a deep breath, composed herself before continuing. "I wish that he'd had the chance to have a _proper_ family. But this way... I think it is maybe better this way. And yet... I feel so much regret. So much anger. I don't understand why..."

Coran just listened; he didn't know what to say, how to offer his support. He didn't know how to tell her that he would have been there for her, _with_ her, no matter what the outcome. But he knew she would need time; time to grieve, time to accept. And he would help her, as much as he could, through this.

But he felt out of his depth and completely helpless.

* * *

_When he opened his eyes, it was as if he'd awakened from a dream that had lasted a century. He was lying on the ground, on a bed of leaves, under the summer sun. Trees surrounded him, graceful trunks twisting majestically up to the sky, their branches covered with a thousand emerald coloured leaves. It was so very peaceful._

_He sat up groggily, unsure of how he'd came to be there. He couldn't remember much except for his name, and that gave him no clues as to his current situation. His legs were shaky as he stood, leaning against one of the nearest trees for some support. He could hear birdsong. He could smell wildflowers._

_He looked down at himself. He was wearing simple clothes, a tunic and trousers, a pair of light sandals on his feet. His hands went up to his head; thick, wavy hair was what he found, delicately pointed ears sticking up through the mane._

_Slowly he began to remember things._

_His name was Xan. He was an elf, an enchanter. He usually wore robes... He frowned slightly, willing the memories to come back. _

_He was from Evereska. He could smell pine and cedar, reminding him of the tree covered mountains of home. He was important... he had duties to his people. To the People._

_He heard laughter and conversation in the distance. He started walking towards it, still trying to remember. There had been a darkness, an unending darkness where he'd existed, but not lived._

_He wasn't wholly sure, but he deeply suspected he might be dead. And that... that was all right._

* * *

In a pocket in Maiyn's cape, the glow surrounding the Moonblade that she'd carried since Suldanessellar wavered a few times, and then winked softly out of existence.

* * *

_He made his way to her grove, a resolute determination in his gait despite his loathing of having crossed to her Plane. She had crossed the line; he was _angry_._

_She looked up from her scrying glass as he approached, and he faltered momentarily. Gone was her haughty posture, her self-assured look. Instead she appeared almost pained._

"_Fenmarel..." she said. "You must not—"_

"_Enough!" He raised his hand, took his gaze away from her for fear that it would only make him angrier. "We both know we have not been idle bystanders during events with the Children, but this... this has been one step too far."_

"_Fenmarel—"_

"_How could you? How could you stoop to such a level?"_

_He looked back to her to see her eyes widen in surprise; and then they narrowed in annoyance, in shock of his accusation. "Me? You think _I_ am responsible for this?"_

"_Let us not play games, Hanali," he spat. "You made it clear from the beginning that you thought certain hearts belonged together. But this... this is more than meddling. This is intrusion into the lives of mortals."_

_She drew herself up, and the Hanali he recognised stood before him once more. Her look was cold. "Think of me what you want," she said calmly, "but this is not my work. I am... as surprised as you are."_

_He regarded her for a while, then marched past her to look within her scrying glass. He saw a raven-haired elf meandering his way through the forests, a puzzled expression on his face._

"_The enchanter," he muttered, frowning to himself. "But the sword..."_

"_The sword was left without heirs," Hanali said gently. "I was not sure if the flame would be quenched, so I looked. He arrived here almost straight after. And his ancestors; they all appeared, one by one. The sword released them."_

_Fenmarel nodded. "Then some good has come of it, perhaps. But still... this should not have happened. It has not happened naturally." He looked back over to the goddess, but she avoided his gaze. "You have no suspicions?"_

"_The children should not be able to bear offspring of their own, Fenmarel. It is said, it is known. Yet it happened, because of a link that we cannot fully understand. I know not what happened, but I am not surprised. It just could not be."_

_He sighed at her words. "No, there must be more to it than this. What of Vandria?"_

"_Vandria's attentions are taken by the prospects of war," Hanali replied gently. "She is not involved in this. None of us are. It is... just how it is."_

_He looked into the mirror, watching the elf for some time before he turned and quickly walked away. "I hope you are right, Hanali," he said darkly. "For if I find that you have lied or hidden anything from me..." He turned to give her one last look. "Then you will have made an eternal enemy."_


End file.
